Everything here is true. At least, it is how I have seen it happen. At some point in time, according to my perspective these things happened. The reality of “what is” is often a very fuzzy set of objects.
As I child I was supposed to water the animals. In the heat of the summer, the sun would bake the water droplet apart and scatter them in the air making it humid as a well as hot. The water trough in the horse field was an old stoppered up bathtub. Every morning it needed to have some of the menky water scooped out- that water that didn’t get baked because it hid in the shade-so that fresh cool water could be added.
One morning I filled the horse troughs as well as the ones for the sheep. I even cleaned out the horse stall. Then my father yelled for me to wake up and water the animals.
“I already did,” I told him.
“When? You have been asleep,” he growled back at me.
Ah, when confusion sets in sometimes it is like a kick in the head and sometimes it is like living on Saturn. Slowly, I realized that I had dreamed doing all my chores. In my dream I had been very efficient and thorough. All of the animals were lovingly tended, the sun was shining and the birds were singing. This was my reality. Well, reality until my father woke me up and told me that NONE of my chores had been done.
I would love to say that my tendency to dream that I have done things was limited to only that time. Conversely, I have often forgotten completely things that I have done. And to clarify, I have often forgotten good things only to be reminded by some record or other person’s memory. I have rarely forgotten the bad things. The bad, sour tasting events stick around and threaten to make everything go rotten. Sometimes with age, those rotten bad things get composted enough to be used as fertilizer. Sometimes, they are just too toxic and we never go back there. However, if everything is toxic, then you have no choice but to build your house on that dump.
Ah, that I have been charmed thus far…most of the rot has gone into the compost and come out as useful shit.
Reality is a rabbit that often runs and hides. When danger comes, reality remembers the location of that memory… sometimes. The smart rabbit jigs and jags and finds safe dens that she has placed with forethought. I believe that those dreaming states where we get things done even though we’ve really done nothing beyond the dream-world are really safe dens. Or perhaps they are our rabbit legs practicing the dancing and jigging toward safety.
Or maybe we really have no idea how far reality stretches.